Inside Out
by Victoria to Worthing
Summary: TOAD fic! A psychic mutant has hidden her powers for her entire life, until she goes to college in New York and someone finds out. Chapter 11 is up!
1. Fitting In

Author's note: Hey, y'all! My first X Men story, whoohoo! It's starts out being about my O/C, but don't worry, lots of familiar faces will be brought in soon! Please read and review!

Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize from the movies is not mine! 

When she got bored in school, Anya skimmed lightly over the surface of her classmates's brains, looking for something interesting-- a weird fantasy, a nice brooding worry, maybe a note they were composing to someone. It was like channel surfing, with the added benefit of the satisfaction of getting away with something, never getting caught. No one noticed as she rifled through the contents of their minds and psyches, searching for weaknesses, loves, secrets, as easily as someone else would dig through their backpack for missing homework. 

When she was little, she had assumed that everyone knew what everyone else was thinking. She still remembered plunging into her mother's mind, sliding past layers of words she didn't understand yet until she reached the deeper core of emotions. It was easy to avoid fights, to keep people happy, to drive them insane when you wanted to, if you could see just what they wanted, what they hated, what they felt. She'd lived that way forever, and finding out that her abilities were special was even better. She loved knowing that no one else was rummaging through her thoughts-- they were locked up securely, and she had an unusual power. Deep inside her core, she nourished a flourishing pride; she wouldn't have trouble keeping her advantage a secret. 

The bell rang, jerking her out of the daydream she'd been perusing from Ben Miller's rather twisted brain. She gathered her books and papers and chatted with her friends just like everyone else, a non-descript part of the crowd. Sometimes even she forgot that she was special... almost. 

A/N: Sorry it was so short, the next part will be much longer. And don't worry, Anya will get nicer, too, LOL. Her development is a big part of the story. :) 


	2. Baggage

Author's note: Second chapter already! I changed the title, I'm just trying to keep it high on the lists. No reviews yet, but it's only been up since this afternoon, and this section updates quite slowly, so oh, well! Please review, I've been missing reviews lately since I've been a slow updater with my other stories! Disclaimer: Same as first chapter! :) 

Anya hated when her mom was in a bad mood; most people got a little tense when they were around someone depressed, but for her it was like a cloud hanging over her mind. And she felt guilty, because she was the cause of the gloom. 

"Baby, I'm going to miss you so much!" her mom said tearily a few times each day, inevitably following this statement with a watery hug. Anya was used to knowing what to say, but she came up empty-handed in this situation. The truth was, her mom was going to be living alone once she left for college in three weeks. Anya was an only child, and her dad had left before she was even born. None of her mom's family lived nearby, and while she had friends, of course, it wouldn't be the same. So Anya's excitement at being on her own at last was dampened, and her last few weeks at home were overshadowed by her mom's worry, even though she gallantly tried to cover it up (since she didn't know that such efforts would be in vain, anyway). 

It was a Friday after school, and Anya was planning on going to a movie with a few of her friends later on. But at the moment, she was having a snack, casually perched on the counter, watching Oprah on the little TV in the kitchen. It was an episode about overweight people, a subject that always interested and alarmed her since she still had a little stubborn baby fat at age eighteen. This was the reason she was chomping on celery instead of the cookies her naturally thin mother had made that afternoon. 

"Annie? You need to pack some more later, OK? You don't want to have to rush, you'll forget stuff." 

"OK, Mom!" Her mother's voice was casual, but Anya sensed the tension she had just bringing up the subject of her coming departure. 

"You're going out later, right?" Her mom wandered into the kitchen. 

"Yep. Movies."

"Who with?" 

"The usual."

"No special guy?" 

"Nooo, Mom," Anya sighed. 

"Are you still not over that Jason guy?" 

"I've been over HIM forever, but the whole high school dating thing has just been so stupid..." 

"That's a very mature decision," her mom beamed. 

"Yeah, I guess so." It wasn't a hard choice, actually; Anya's former boyfriend Jason was considered quite a catch, but as she'd spent more time around him, his herd mentality had begun to wear on her. Almost everything he did for her seemed to be motivated by appearances, just following the girlfriend-boyfriend routine, and while she was something of a slave to public opinion, too, it would have been nice to have a guy who specifically liked HER. She'd ended it with the "It's not you, it's me speech"-- even though it was totally him. But to be fair, any girl who hadn't had such a closeup view of his thought processes probably would have become disillusioned much more slowly. 

Her extra knowledge had really put a cramp in her love life; thanks to her insights, she could get the interest of a lot of guys. But after she spent more than a little time with them, she usually found something in their head that bugged her: extreme insecurity, a big ego, plain old pervishness. She really didn't appreciate her powers then-- the honeymoon ended for her, so to speak, much more quickly than it did for everyone else.

Oprah ended, and Anya hopped off the counter and went upstairs to get ready. Her friends would be coming in half an hour or so, and she always took a long time on her hair; it was a nice light golden color, but fell in big, frizzy curls; she kept it cut just to her chin, but it was still a force to be reckoned with. It was always sticking up, flying all over the place, standing out like a crazy halo. She kind of admired its spirit, actually, but sometimes it was a bit overwhelming, and it kind of made her look slightly insane, which she didn't enjoy.

She walked into her room and was startled by its bareness; she'd already taken down the posters she wanted to take with her and packed up the pictures that had been on her shelves. It was weird seeing her room that way. She kind of wished she could just leave everything like it was until the last minute and then just pack it up quick, before she had time to think about it all. But her mom was right, she'd forget things that way. She hummed absently to herself as she put water on her hair and tried to drag a brush through it. She turned on the radio as she waged her daily battle against her curls, and a news report blared out. 

"More mutant protests occur in Washington. Citizens are still concerned about the growing numbers and increasing power of mutants, who are daily staging more protests themselves, demanding more representation and protection in society..." 

Anya was always a little freaked out by the word "mutant." She had a hard time remembering that, in the eyes of the world, it applied to her. It sounded scary; it was a word that provoked fear, or discomfort, in the heart of the general public. She was a minority, an exception, a curiosity-- at least she would be, if anyone ever found out. She was glad that she had a normal life, actually a BETTER than normal life, but sometimes, when she heard all the controversy going on, she felt a little cowardly, a little weary of keeping her secret, a little bit like she was staying out of a fight that involved her personally. But if she got involved, who knew what would happen? People would be scared of her, her advantage would be gone, she wouldn't have control over her image anymore... she couldn't even think about that. No one would ever find her out. She wasn't like those freaks-- no way. She shook the thoughts out of her head and ran downstairs to wait for her friends. No need to even worry. None at all. 


	3. Trance

Author's note: The formatting should be more decent since I'm on my other computer and can save this as .html instead of .txt! Thank you to the reviewers (just two so far! *sniffle, sniffle*), and I hope more of you join them!

Disclaimer: Same as before! It will never change! Oh, yes, the club and store in this chapter are made up ones, haha, I figured there are enough clubs and shops in New York City to add a few with no harm done! And I don't know any real ones there that I could really describe!

Anya always got a little disoriented in crowds; it was like being surrounded by radios playing at a very, very low volume—you wouldn't even notice if it was just one or two, but altogether it made a racket, and the thoughts and emotions of the people around her were a ringing in her mental ears as she made her way across the crowded quad to her psychology class.

The buzz subsided a little when she reached her classroom and sat down; the other students' minds focused on the teacher's pointless jabbering, and Anya found it easier to concentrate when everyone was thinking about approximately the same thing.

"Today, we're going to talk about fear," Professor James said, finally getting to the point. He went on to discuss the physiological effects of being frightened, the chemical components, the psychological causes… Anya scribbled down notes, hoping she could write fast enough to not miss any of the major points.

"Sometimes fear can have deadly consequences. Fear, in fact, is the major root of prejudices. Fear of people who are different from you. Racism, homophobia… even the recent mutant problem."

Anya's pen slipped and ripped a hole in her paper. 

"You okay?" the girl next to her asked as she noticed Anya's startled face.

"Yeah, fine," Anya whispered back with the most natural smile she could muster. The girl turned back around, and Anya focused on her for a minute ,then sighed with relief. She wasn't suspicious; Anya was safe.

"Professor, we SHOULD be scared of mutants. They have powers! They kill people," a blonde girl commented.

"A normal person could kill someone, too," a guy pointed out.

Anya was too scared to speak up; she could feel the very fear and prejudice Professor James had mentioned in the heads of the people all around her.

"Well, it's plain to see that we have all have our fears. The question is, are they justified or not? Where is the line drawn between a rational fear and a phobia? In other words, is it right to be afraid of mutants because of the powers they have? Or are people simply afraid of what they don't know?"

The issue was controversial, obviously. Anya's classmates all began giving their opinions, mostly along the lines of "I don't think I'm prejudiced, but I think that mutants are dangerous," or "I heard that there's this mutant who can…" followed by some horror story.

By the time class was over, Anya was too tense to even think of chatting with anyone after class, they way she usually did. College thus far had been pretty easy, people-wise, and her classes weren't too torturous, either. She really liked her roommate, Allyson, and had, in fact, told her that she'd go with her to a club she'd heard about that night. 

When Anya got back to her dorm room, Allyson was, as usual, cleaning. She was a neat freak; she even cleaned up Anya's side of the room for her, just because she couldn't stand to look at clutter. She was perky and talkative and altogether very nice company, especially to Anya, whose behavior depended a lot on the signals she couldn't help but get from those around her. Allyson was always cheery, and her good vibes never failed to improve Anya's mood.

"Hey, girl, what's up?" she shouted over the roar of her hand-held vacuum.

"I just finished psych class."

"Are we going to that club tonight? Rising Sun?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess so. Oh, man, what should I wear? I don't think I have any… clubbish clothes."

"You can borrow some of mine if you want!"

"I don't think they'd fit…"

"We're the same height!"

"But not the same… width," Anya retorted with a laugh.

"We could go shopping after my next class. Do you have any more today?"

"Nope."

"Okay, great. I guess we'll go at like… four then?" She turned off the vacuum, finally. "I saw a really cool looking store

"Yeah, cool," Anya said, her spirits lifting a little from their depressed state after the weird class she'd just had.

And that's how it came to pass that a few hours later Anya and Allyson were pawing through the bargain bin in a giant, fashionable, but very expensive shop called Yellow Brick Road; if you walked through a door at the back, you entered the adjoined shoe store, which was labeled Emerald City and painted various shades of vermilion. 

"Ooh, hey, how about this?" Allyson cooed, holding up a one-shoulder top with a diagonal hemline.

Anya sensed that Allyson liked the shirt a lot, but her usual people-pleasing skills didn't apply in this case. "No way! It shows stomach, I can tell."

"So?"

"So that's not the best look for me, trust me."

"Ah, you're just insecure."

_Heck, yeah! _Anya thought. "No, just realistic!" she said out loud. _I'm such a fake, _she thought irritably, then went back to rifling through the clothes.

They finally settled on a short black fake-leather skirt and a black tank top with clouds screenprinted across it in shades of white, blue, pink, and lavender. 

"And I have shoes you can borrow!" Allyson said as she proudly held the clothes up to Anya. "These really awesome black boots, because I'm gonna wear my stilettos instead tonight."

"Awesome," Anya said, studying herself in the mirror. Man, she was pale. Pretty much just plain white. "I really need some fake tanner."

"Nah, your skin looks good that way with black. Cool contrast!" Allyson picked out a pair of glittery shoelaces for herself, and they joined the end of one of the two impossibly long checkout lines.

A guy with spiky black hair was standing in front of them; he looked over his shoulder, saw Allyson, and immediately turned around and started flirting. Anya picked his signals up clearly—distinct admiration of Allyson, apathetic dismissal of her. _Ah, well,_ she thought, pulling a loose thread that was hanging down from the hem of her new top. He wasn't very cute, anyway.

The guy waited around as Allyson and Anya made their purchases, still talking away a mile a minute, and Allyson answering enthusiastically. Anya gave him a smile from now to then, but mostly zoned out and started mentally adding up how many calories she'd eaten that day; she hadn't planned on wearing a short skirt or a tank top anytime soon, so she felt kind of unused to the idea. She was used to dressing to camouflage her "problem areas", not to show herself off.

The guy finally left, but not until Allyson had told him that they were going to Rising Sun that night and mentioned that it would be cool if he wanted to meet them there. "Wasn't he nice?" she bubbled, and she regaled Anya (who agreed with everything, as usual) with his praises all they way back to the subway station.

Once they were on the train, she switched to talking about how fun the club was going to be, and Anya could join in that discussion a little more enthusiastically. 

When they reached the dorm, Allyson immediately went to one of the community bathrooms to start getting ready. Anya collapsed on her bed, relishing the relative silence. She never had complete silence, of course, with everyone's minds buzzing around the dorm, but she was learning to tune things out better. She tuned them out so well, in fact, that she fell asleep, and was shaken awake by a dressed up and anxious Allyson.

"Anya! You're not even ready yet, come on, we should leave soon!" Anya yawned and drowsily followed her roommate's orders as Allyson oversaw her preparation, taking matters into her own hands when it came to Anya's irrepressible hair. She sprayed and combed the ethereal curls into reasonable submission, then handed Anya the promised boots. She finally gave her approval of Anya's appearance and rushed the still-sleepy mutant out the door.

The club was apparently popular, because they had to stand in a long line on the sidewalk before the bouncer admitted them through. As they walk passed, Anya felt his thoughts (and his eyes) focused on the back of her miniskirt, and she grinned as she realized that Allyson must have done her work well.

The guy from Yellow Brick Road had come as promised, and he and Allyson went off to dance. Anya scanned the room for a good prospect. Someone was checking her out from the bar. She turned to look and saw that it was a guy who was at least forty. 

_Nasty cradle robber, _she thought, trying to block out his rather disturbing interest. Someone else was watching her from across the room; she looked over and saw that it was a decent-looking guy about her own age. She gave him a gracious smile, and he countered with a little wave. She glanced over a few more times, and eventually he began making his way across the room. _Score!_

"Hey, what's up?" the guy said, obviously trying to sound cool. Anya picked up some rather nervous vibes from him, which always made her feel better. She was used to bending her behavior to others, so someone else being nervous about what she would think was a pleasant change.

"Not much. What's your name?"

"Ty. What's yours?"

"Anya."

"Cool name. You wanna dance, Anya?"

"Sure thing."

He turned out the be just the kind of dancer she'd expected—good, but so worried about looking good that he held back the whole time. That was her style too, in life as much as dancing, so they were a pretty well-matched pair. A slow dance came on after that song, but instead of feeling romantic, Anya just started getting sleepy as they stepped back and forth to the music. She stifled a yawn and tried to focus on what Ty was thinking, but she found it to be rather dull; all he was thinking about was worries about what _she _thinking about. 

__

If someone was reading my mind instead of the other way around, they'd think I was a really boring person, Anya thought glumly.

Ty roamed off somewhere after the dance was over, and Anya was left to sift through the club for possibilities again. 

She danced a few more times, with a rather preppy boy who confessed that he was still in high school and had gotten in with a fake ID and a bribe for the bouncer, and then with a guy who had a safety pin through his eyebrow, which ruined the mood during their slow dance because she was occupied with probing his memories to find out just how much that must have hurt.

She went and got a glass of water at the bar after that, and as she slowly sipped it, she stopped searching the bar for people that were paying attention to her and just looked around for anything interesting. The DJ was a Bob Marley lookalike whose mind was in a trance-like state as he spun the records; Anya got so tuned into his thoughts that she could almost feel the discs under her hands. Her eyes slid closed, and her foot in its borrowed boot began slowly tapping the music. The song was weird mix of reggae, rap, and techno, and she zoned out so completely that she didn't even notice the first time Allyson tapped her on the shoulder.

"Anya… Anya, hey!" 

"Oh! Oh, hi," Anya said, feeling like she'd been jerked out of a dream. Maybe she really had been dreaming. But then, over Allyson's shoulder, she saw the DJ staring straight at her with a weird look on his face.

_Oh my gosh_, she thought weakly. _He caught me. _

Panic rose in her throat. No one had ever noticed her reading their minds before, never! "Ally, I gotta go, OK? I feel kind of bad. I'm gonna go back to the dorm."

"What? Are you okay? Do you have to leave now, we haven't even been here long!"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just need to rest."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, it's okay, stay." Anya slid off her barstool and looked over at the DJ; his eyes were closed now. 

She walked to the door as quickly as possible, shoving past people, her mind a blur. She didn't slow down until she was a block from the club. This street was much quieter, pretty much deserted. She relaxed in the solitude and tried to calm down. The DJ had gone right back to his work, maybe he just happened to be looking over when she'd looked up. But no, he'd been staring, looking puzzled. He'd sensed her interference. 

"I'm so tired of hiding," she whispered, not even noticing that she was speaking out loud. She felt a little choked up, almost like she would cry, and she was so distracted that she didn't even notice the dark figure following her, getting closer every minute.

She finally picked up his signal and whirled around, startled, but before she could speak or even think, the man tackled her, and something cold pressed against her neck. She realized it was a knife, and her tears overflowed. As he dragged her down a dark alley, she thought, _I'm going to die alone._   
Just how she'd always lived.

A/N: I have the fourth chapter all done, but I won't post until I get at least a few reviews! I hardly have any now, it's really depressing. The next chapter introduces a familiar character, whoo! Come on, you know you're curious, review and I'll post!


	4. Choices

Author's note: I'm starting this chapter before I finished the third, just because this will be kind of fun to write! Action, and the first character you'll recognize! :) That's all I'll say for now, just read on.

~this marking~= telepathy

Disclaimer: Ain't mine! *holds hands up innocently*

Anya's first impulse was to scream like a banshee, but that was the instinct that would get her killed, so she didn't speak; even so, she couldn't restrain her breath from coming in sporadic, frightened gasps. Waves of hostility and unreason flowed into her through the man's harsh touch, and his ragged thoughts tore through her brain like the knife might tear through her flesh soon. She cursed her gift as his intentions became clear in her mind; she would have been better off not knowing.

__

Help, please! she thought hopelessly. And as this happened, she had an idea.

She had heard that some mutants were telepathic, sending messages straight to someone's mind. The DJ had noticed when she was looking inside his head, without her even trying to get his attention, so maybe if she reached out for someone, anyone, nearby and _tried _to get them to hear her, it would work.

~Help me, I'm here, in the alley. Someone, come!_~ _Silent shouts, as loud as her mind could make them. She strained for signs of anyone approaching.

All this time, the man had been dragging her farther into the alley, the blade freezing against her already cold and sore neck. She'd be out of time soon.

Then, she felt someone coming. Meandering, wandering with no particular mission, it seemed. She could hear footsteps, just barely, she thought. The man didn't seem to notice. She focused her mind on the footsteps, the distant thoughts. 

~Come get me. Help! In the alley. Look down the alley!~She was still quiet, but the tears didn't stop running down her face.

She was sure she heard footsteps now, but the person could easily walk past. There was barely any light, and it would be nearly impossible to see all they way down to where she was. Her captor had been pawing through her pockets, and finding nothing important, had tightened his grip on her; his breath quickened, and he was whispering unintelligibly.

The footsteps got louder, and through her blurred eyes she saw a figure cross the alley entrance, silhouetted by the streetlights. A man, and he was peering right towards her. If only there was a little light!

"'Ey, who's down there?" he called in a British accent, and her body relaxed a little. ~Here! Don't give up! Right here!~He was walking down toward them now, and the man holding her looked up like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. 

Her rescuer wasn't stopping; he stormed toward them bravely. He was near enough to see what was happening now, she was sure. 

"Hey, man, back off!" the man with the knife yelled, but his adversary wasn't fazed. He halted just a few feet away.

What Anya saw next made her sure that the darkness was affecting her eyes—the stranger's tongue darted out of his mouth and reached all they way to her attacker's wrist, then wrapped around it. With a quick tug, the knife was removed from her throat, and she slid out from under the man's arm easily, shaking as she stood up.

"What the—" the guy blurted out, staring at his captive hand. The tongue reeled back into the other man's mouth, dragging his prey along the ground until he was lying pitifully before him on the cement. 

Before he had time to even curse, the tongue disappeared and the former attacker went flying into a wall, propelled by Anya's rescuer's powerful kick. The knife clattered harmlessly to the ground.

The British guy didn't even seem phased by all that had occurred. "You gonna stand there forever? No telling when this bloke wakes up, come on." Anya was still too shaken to say anything. She'd almost died; she'd been saved by a guy who used his _tongue _as a weapon. "Come on, girl, what are you, deaf?" He grabbed her hand and began hauling her toward the street.

She followed obediently. "You're really strong," she said finally.

"Yeah, and you're really slow! You don't hang around the streets at night alone, especially if you're…" She would have been offended by his tone, but since he had just saved her, she figured she had better just put up with it. She would have liked to check out his mind a little, make sure she hadn't been saved from one lunatic by another, but she was afraid that he'd notice any interference, so she held herself back and pondered the uncomfortable realization that the unspoken end of his sentence was "especially if you're a mutant."

"I didn't plan to walk alone, I just—" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Walk faster."

He didn't slow his pace until they were under a streetlight.

"You know, your hand is kind of clammy…oh _wow_," Anya blurted out as she got a good look at her rescuer for the first time. His skin had a greenish-brown cast, and his spiky hair an even more pronounced green tint. His eyes looked unnaturally big. She stared at him in amazement, and he seemed to squirm under her gaze. She could feel nervousness as she studied him.

"Does your hair grow in like that?" 

"Yeah. Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?"

"No, I don't think she did, but I'm sorry." Just then, Anya realized they were still holding hands, even though she'd stopped walking. He seemed to realize at the exact same time, because they both jerked their hands back at once.

"Ummm, what's your name?" she asked. He gave her a withering glare; she was getting a little tired of his surly stare, which most likely masked ever surlier thoughts. "I'm Anya," she volunteered.

"They call me Toad."

"I can see why."

"So you're one of us, eh?"

"One of who?"

"A mutant."

There was that word again; she hated its sound. But no way she could deny it; she'd used her powers to call him. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Telepathic?"

"Yeah…but mostly psychic."

He gave her a piercing stare. "Could have warned me."

"I'm sorry."

"Isn't there somewhere you should go?"

"Yeah, back to my dorm."

"Is it far?"

"No."

"I'll go with you. Lead the way, but make it fast."

"Oh, okay. Thank you." 

They walked in silence for a while, then Toad spoke. "Do you have a name?"

"I told you, Anya."

"No, another name. An alias?"

She gave him a confused look. "Why would I?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Is Toad your real name?"

"It is now," he answered shortly.

"What, you don't wanna tell me your real name? Don't trust me?" she teased. She didn't tease people much unless she could check out their mood and be sure they'd take it the right way, but her new non-interference policy made that impossible, so she was just blurting out whatever came to mind—a new experience for her.

"I just told you, Toad's my name now."

"Hmmph. I could read your mind and find out anyway, you know—" He gave her a nasty look. "—but I won't!" she hastily added.

They were quiet for a few moments more, then Anya spoke. "You know, you're the only person in the world who knows, well, knows for sure—that I'm a mutant." She was surprised at how easily the word came out.

He didn't answer for a while, and when he did, he spoke quietly. "You're lucky, then." He turned suddenly to look at her. "You ashamed or something?"

"What?"

"You keep it a secret, don't you?"

"I'm not ashamed!" she lied.

"I don't have to be psychic to see through that one, luv," he answered sarcastically.

"I'm not! It's just… element of surprise, you know?"

He didn't answer, just followed a few steps behind her as she walked toward her dorm. The silence began to feel stifling, and she could feel his rather annoyed vibes pointed straight at her. She absorbed them without comment until she felt she couldn't stand the quiet anymore.

"So how did you know where I was?" 

"You called me, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But I mean… what did I sound like?"

Toad gave a startled laugh. "I dunno. A voice in my head. I thought I was going crazy, actually."

"I didn't know I could do that."

"What, drive someone crazy? Believe me, you can."

Anya gave an indignant sniff. "No, use telepathy. Before I always just read people's minds, but then at the club, this guy noticed what I was doing, and it's really weird now, I'm scared to use any of my powers. I don't want people to know…"

"We shouldn't have to hide."

"I don't want to, but I don't see what choice I have."

"You have more choice than I did."

She stared at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"It comes down to what you want."

She shook her head. "That's not what it comes down to for me."

"Maybe it should be."

Before she could answer, she realized they'd reached the dorm. She'd been walking on autopilot, apparently. She took a deep breath and looked up at Toad.

"Thank you. Thanks a lot, you saved my life, I guess!"

"Don't worry about it." He cocked his head awkwardly; she could tell he wasn't used to being thanked.

"Um, well… bye," she added lamely, smiling but somehow not able to look him in the eye.

He gave her a cautious half-smile in return. "Yeah, bye." He started to walk away, then turned back. "'Ey, look out for yourself, okay? No one'll do it for you!"

"You did," she said quietly, her smile not fading yet.

"Yeah, well, this was the exception." He reached over and tucked a curl behind her ear, then turned around and walked quickly back down the path.

Anya's hand unconsciously came up to the piece of hair he'd touched, and she stood watching him walk away until the dark swallowed him up. Then Anya twirled the curl around her fingers and slowly walked through the door.

A/N: I finished this chapter before I wrote even half of Chapter Three! I'm so disorganized, sorry! Heehee, I'll put them up at the same time, as soon as I can! Please review, I'm desperate! :-D Thanks, heehee!


	5. Too Much

Author's note: I know it's short, the next one will be longer! I actually have some reviews now, yeeeeah! But I'd still like more, heehee. Please be honest, and tell me if you think Toad is kinda in character? But it's so hard to know, he didn't really do anything except fight and all that in the movie! In case you didn't know, right now is between movies, when Magneto is still in his prison! 

Anya was glad she didn't have any morning classes the next day; she slept until nearly noon, and when she woke up, she had what she imagined was an alchohol-free hangover. All night long as her mind was freed from her control, it had spun in circles, the same thing over and over. 

The lean, dark, beautiful face of the DJ, staring at her with confusion, almost fear. 

The mutant called Toad, standing underneath a streetlight, looking at her with contempt, then with discomfort. 

And the touch of her attacker, or rather the touch of his knife against her skin. 

She was worn out, worn down, and her secret was a burden, crushing her into the ground. 

She wasn't lucky to have her powers. She knew that now. Knowing too much was worse than knowing too little. 

Toad woke up in mid-air, halfway between his bed and the floor. He hit ground a moment later, tangled in his sheets, the breath knocked out of him. 

"Good morning to you, too," he grunted to no one in particular. He talked to his empty apartment quite often; no one real was ever there. He sighed as the dreams he'd had rushed into his mind all at once. They were all about Anya-- in the arms of her attacker, staring at him with amazement, silently studying the sidewalk as she walked next to him, and most of all, over and over again, Anya standing outside her dorm, smiling at the ground, the dim light from the building turning her hair into a halo. She had kind of reminded him of the sweet-faced, chubby angels you see on postcards and old paintings-- at least when she kept her mouth shut. 

It had been a long time since he'd touched someone for no reason. So long that he couldn't even remember a single instance when he had, except for last night, when Anya's halo-hair had drawn his hand to it like a magnet, before he had time to stop himself. Most people were afraid of him, and those that weren't were still freaked out by his appearance. He remembered Anya exclaiming that his hand was clammy, then her wide eyes when she got a good look at him. Her reaction was better than most, really; she hadn't seemed grossed our or scared-- just surprised, wondering. Almost admiring, in a weird way, or at least he would have thought that if he hadn't known better. 

There was nothing to be admired about him, except maybe his strength, his powers that came along with his curse. He was a freak-- not just a mutant, a true freak. Unacceptable to the world, different in every way. No, just like he'd told her, he'd had no choice. Lack of fear was the best reaction he could hope for from people; affection was impossible. 


	6. Mistaken

Author's note: This is what I get for branching out from LOTR section! Barely any reviews! But then, the site's been funky, so ah well! I am going to keep y'all guessing as to what will happen in this story—it's not as straightforward as it seems thus far! I'm even keeping myself guessing, heehee! Need I say—review!

And YAY, Quinn! You give such good reviews! I'm glad you like it! I won't give up on my other stories, don't worry!

Disclaimer: *holds up a sign that reads* NOT MINE!

Anya spent the next few weeks with her mind's eye closed; she was constantly bombarded by emotions and random thoughts swirling around her, but she held herself back from studying them. Everyone noticed her listless behavior. The truth was, she didn't know what to do with herself when she couldn't get the opinions (conscious or unconscious) of the people around her. She felt like she'd been deprived of vital information to function, and she found herself seeking time alone, when she didn't have to block everything out, when she didn't have to worry about what everyone was thinking—when she didn't have to worry that her powers would slip out of her control and she'd be found out.

She found that holding her abilities back was more strain than taking full advantage of them had ever been. The difficulty she had suppressing them forced her to realize that they were a natural part of her, maybe one of the most important parts. She spent her time feeling like a spring held tightly coiled, or a loaded gun.

She'd always had a bad habit of chewing on whatever was available—pencils, her nails, her mother's guitar picks that she left lying around the house. This habit came back full force as her nerves frazzled. She would look down in class and find her pen cap covered with teeth marks, and she hadn't even realized what she'd been doing.

With her mind was removed from everyone else's, Anya began to think she was becoming removed from herself, too. Then she realized the truth; apart from everyone else, she had never know who she was in the first place.

__

Anya was three years old, and it was Christmas Day. She running up and down the hall of her grandparents' house, counting out loud. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…" She was trying to beat her own time, her short legs stretching as she loped across the carpet. It was cold, and the running kept her warm. She was hoping they'd eat soon.

The toe of her shiny black Mary Jane caught on a snag, and she fell flat on her face with a shriek. She burst into tears, and a door at the end of the hall swung open as her mother, grandparents, and uncle rushed out, clucking with concern.

Grandpa reached her first, and he scooped her up easily. "Well, now, Miss Annie, what seems to be the trouble?" Her grandparents thought Anya was an outlandish name, so they used her nickname more often. 

Anya sniffled and offered her grandfather a faint smile. He was warm, all his thoughts and feelings, even his arms. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and peered into his mind.

"Is she all right, Charlie? Her eyes look funny," Grandma said, staring at Anya's unfocused gaze.

"Sure she is, it was just a little tumble." He jiggled Anya on his knee, and her curls bounced. She hesitantly pulled back into her own consciousness, and her grandmother sighed in relief as Anya began to look more alert.

They worried because Anya didn't talk too much yet. They were always encouraging her to say more, with rewards and scoldings, but she was sometimes too busy soaking everything in. The world was so big to her—so many people to find out about, as well as all the usual things to see. She could forget herself for hours inside someone else's mind.

Then her mother was lifting her out of Grandpa's arms. Her tall mother, with her olive skin, dark hair, and slim build so different from Anya's. Anya barely looked like her family at all, really. 

She laid her head on her mom's shoulder and drifted to sleep.

Anya woke up confused. Her dreams had been so real; they weren't just dreams. They were her memories, replaying themselves for no apparent reason. 

She opened her eyes for a moment, but the sun stung them, so she closed them again. She could hear Allyson putting her makeup on, and before she thought about it she latched onto her roommates signal. Information poured into her—the words to the song Allyson was humming to herself, the high school dance it reminded her of, where her first class was, the shade of eyeshadow she selected. Anya relaxed as knowledge flowed through her mind, as Allyson's familiar essence reasserted itself.

Her breath stopped. _She'd used her powers._

Then she realized that Allyson hadn't noticed. She was completely oblivious; she hadn't even stopped doing her makeup. Anya cautiously checked her roommate's signal again—nothing. 

The psychic stretched her mind out and locked onto the people in the room next to her. She studied them deeply, and they remained ignorant of the interference, too. It seemed like nothing had changed.

__

But the DJ… she thought. Then a new and welcome idea entered her mind. 

She'd be going to the Rising Sun that night.

~*~*~

Toad was in the laundromat; he hated the laundromat. He went late at night, when the place was usually deserted. He was sitting on an unused machine as the one next to him churned his clothes around, removing the dirt from the already dingy fabric of his rather monochromatic wardrobe.

A radio was blaring Nirvana, and Toad unconsciously hummed along with Kurt Cobain's whining voice. "You know you're right! You know you're right…"

The bell above the door jangled, and Toad turned his head with a jerk. 

An ethereal cloud of blonde hair glowed in the light of the streetlights outside, and Toad's enormous eyes got larger. A wave of cold swept over him… then faded as he realized he was staring at a stranger. 

The girl was visibly startled when she saw Toad, especially in his alert position. She gasped, stood staring blankly, then turned and pushed back through the door, leaving the bell ringing frantically.

Toad caught a flash of dark roots at the top of her golden hair, and he couldn't help but chuckle ironically.

Not Anya. Heck, not even a real blonde! And just like everyone else, another person to fear him.

He hated himself for thinking about the "closet mutant"; anytime he'd thought of anyone this much, he'd ended up disappointed and alone as ever. But how could he help it? Since the Brotherhood had dissolved, he'd had almost no human—or mutant—contact. Just talking to someone was a big event. And to touch her…

And when he'd run down the alley that night, he'd been the good guy for once.

An unusual experience for him, indeed.

A/N: I'll write more soon! I'm going to be gone until Monday, though. I can probably check my e-mail and see REVIEWS before then, though! Heehee!


	7. Beautiful Stranger

Author's note: I hope this chapter doesn't rely too much on coincidence… oh, well, coincidences happen! Wait, forget that, I don't believe in coincidence, but ANYWAY! If you do, there's a bit of one, but I'm going to stop worrying and write (after playing guitar for a while). Please review! I'm so happy with getting so many, thank you to everyone who reviewed, and no flames yet, whoohoo. Toad's a very popular man in this fandom, ha. 

Disclaimer: This won't change unless I suddenly acquire rights to X-Men… so in other words, it ain't gonna change!

--this marking-- = Deacon using telepathy

~this marking~= Anya using telepathy

"quote marks"= someone speaking normally

__

italics= ordinary thoughts

In direct contrast to her frenzy before her last trip to the Rising Sun, Anya made the journey in her jeans and T-shirt, too concerned with her mission there to worry about squeezing into anything tight and stylish. She spent the subway ride there blissfully dipping into the other passengers' thoughts, relishing her returned freedom_. Don't normal people get lonely?_ she thought, recalling her past week of isolation.

The line for the club was long, and she found herself wishing she'd taken time to grab a jacket. She crossed her arms and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. As she inched closer to the door, she searched the club for the signal of the person she was looking for. To her relief, he was inside. 

As soon as she entered the club, he looked up and gave her a nonchalant wave, his other hand still spinning the records on the turntable. 

--I wondered if you'd ever come back.--

Anya jumped. Telepathic messages were more startling than she'd realized; no wonder Toad had been freaked out.

~This is weird!~

--You get used to it.-- A gentle smile crossed his downturned face. 

~Yeah, I guess you'd know… do you think I can talk to you?~

--We're talking now--. A wry tone.

~You're distracted. ~

--Yeah, gotta keep spinning. I get a break in fifteen minutes.--

~OK. Come find me then.~

--No problem.--

He returned to his task, and Anya felt a brief flash of envy. He was in a separate world of music, tuning everyone out without even trying. That must have been why it took him a few minutes to notice her attention before, and why she hadn't realized that he was a telepath, too.

She studied the DJ, deciding to take this chance to examine him while he was zoned out. He was calm, peaceful, completely together—the opposite of her usual mental state. And, shallow as it was, she had to admit he was pretty cute. He had a long lean build, high cheekbones, and a slightly prominent nose. He was swaying with the rhythm of the song, and his long leather coat and dreadlocked hair followed the motion. 

__

Wow, he's hot! Anya thought approvingly.

--Thanks, not looking bad yourself!--

Anya jumped, looked around, and clapped her hand over her mouth as though her embarrassing words had been spoken aloud. The DJ was still looking industriously at his work, but she could see that he was suppressing laughter. 

~That was sneaky!~

--So was trying to read me while I wasn't paying attention.--

~So sorry if I don't know telepath etiquette! ~

Anya was thoroughly unsettled. She was used to presenting a cool front with her behavior, but she'd never had to control her thoughts before.

--You've got a lot to learn, girl.--

~Yeah! She sighed. I guess I do!~

~*~*~

Toad was grateful for his hooded sweatshirt that night. It served to cover his bizarre visage and keep him warm in the midst of the increasingly cold weather. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and no spot of skin was exposed to the passerby. He looked down at the sidewalk, keeping his face in shadows. A creature of the night. A nocturnal amphibian, so to speak

He glanced at the crowd of people he was passing. A line, waiting to get into a club that was blaring well-mixed but very annoying music. Despite this drawback, a club that was assuredly serving alcohol.

__

I've got time for quick drink. It's not like I'm going anywhere, anyway. He hadn't found a job yet. Most companies had a no-mutant policy. The money Magneto paid him before the Liberty Island incident was running low, but he hadn't become desperate enough to return to his previous form of monetary support—mugging in alleys, much like the bum he had scared away from Anya last week. 

He winced. Anya again. What was wrong with him?

He ducked past the line, hoping the "beautiful people" assembled in it wouldn't notice him. When he reached the front of the queue, he slipped under the arm of the bouncer, ignoring the man's irate cry. He didn't keep any ID. He didn't want to carry around a reminder of his ugly mug, or have the government keeping track of his stats.

He stepped up to the bar and mumbled his drink order, thankful for the dim lighting of the club. Everyone was too busy rubbing up against each other and trying to look good to notice anything unusual about him as he slumped over on a barstool, a dark, still silhouette against the swaying crowds and pulsing strobe lights. Alone as usual.

~*~*~

--Anya?--

She jumped and looked around. It was the DJ, of course, finally on his break. She almost blurted out, "How do you know my name?", but then realized how idiotic that was and stopped herself just in time. "Yeah?"

"Glad to see you waited."

"Yeah… what's your name?"

"Deacon Brown. How's it goin'?" It seemed to be a rhetorical question.

She cut to the chase. "Ah, like I said, can we… talk? I mean…" she hesitated, lowering her voice. "I've never met anyone else…"

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, a low, husky voice that surprised her with its audibility. "The cool thing about us, pretty girl, we don't have to talk." She smiled hesitantly, trying to figure out if he really meant the "pretty " comment without him noticing her interference.

"Let's dance," he continued.

"Dance?" A slow song was now blaring through the speakers.

"Yeah, so we can get to know each other better." 

She shot him a skeptical look. 

"Hey, you of all people can tell that my intentions are good," he joked.

"You just wanna read me…"

"You can dish it out but can't take it, huh?" he teased.

"I'm just not used to it, you know?"

"What, thought you were the only telepath in town?"

"Hey, keep it down." She looked around nervously.

--Another advantage of our method of communication,-- the DJ commented , a smirk on his face. --No need for volume control.--

"Mmm." She was nervous all over again.

"Dance." 

The word now seemed to be a command, and he held out his hand with confidence that irked her. _Why am I such a neurotic telepath?_ she grumbled to herself as she accepted it.

Deacon seemed to have taken her musing as a question directed to him. --You still haven't accepted your identity as a mutant. You're in denial! You have no peace with your powers.-- As though unaware that his words were a bit combative, he continued leading her toward the dance floor.

~That's not true! I use my powers all the time.~

--And you're peaceful?--

~ Well… maybe not. What do you want me to do about it?~

--Oh, I don't know, maybe **tell** someone about them?--

Anya gave him a disbelieving stare. ~Just how much have you been reading me tonight?~

His only reply was a mysterious and rather charming grin. 

~I don't know what you expect me to do, I mean, how many people have YOU told, and…~ Her mind froze. 

"What's wrong?" Deacon asked out loud, feeling the shock that had just flowed through her.

"It's, ahh… someone I know!" She tried to pull her hand away, but he hung on.

"Hey, I'll come with!" he insisted, curious about what kind of person could cause such a strange reaction in her.

She didn't protest, just dragged him along behind her as she shoved her way through the crowds toward the bar. She stopped before a hunched-over figure, hesitated for a moment, then tapped him on the shoulder.

~*~*~

Toad felt the touch through his layers of clothing and whirled around, on the defensive as always. To his surprise, it wasn't someone trying to heckle him or make small talk.

It was Anya, the strobe lights casting colored lights across the pale canvas of her skin and hair, her hand held tightly by a tall and handsome man behind her.

"Hi," she squeaked out.

Toad was speechless.


	8. This Darkness

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, yeah, not mine.

This isn't what you're thinking," Deacon said cheerfully, after only a few moments of awkward

silence. Toad's eyes had been glued to Anya, who was absorbing his waves of unwilling discomfort and concern at her close proximity to Deacon, but he pried his gaze away and gave Deacon an appraising glare. "And how would you know what I'm thinking?"

Deacon's only reply was a mysterious smile, but Toad jumped. "Another one? Bloody hell…"

Anya realized that Deacon had spoken to Toad's mind without her sensing it. "Hey, how did you do that?"

The psychic winked ingratiatingly. "Trick of the trade, girl. I'll teach you sometime."

Toad smirked. "What's this, a freak convention and I wasn't invited?"

"I'll tell them to put you on the mailing list," Anya said, apparently reverting back to the boldness that she had acquired the first time she met Toad.

Deacon chuckled and Toad quirked an eyebrow.

"Anya's like my Padawan learner," Deacon continued, reclaiming his role as breaker of the ice. "I'm teaching her how all the cool mutants roll. I'm accepting students if you're interested." He broke into a dazzling teasing grin, and Anya wondered if even the prickly Toad could stand up to Deacon's mix of charm and confidence.

Toad snorted. "I'll pass, chap." Apparently, he was immune.

"Good, because I have a better plan. How about we go to my kind of club?"

Anya got the gist of his idea right away and smiled tentatively. Toad demanded further clarification.

"Your kind? A Rastafarian convention, or perhaps a self-help group for the unbearably conceited?"

"I should have said our kind," Deacon amended without malice.

The green mutant grimaced skeptically. "I'm not the most popular guy around. There are a few people around here who wouldn't exactly welcome me with open arms if I ran into them."

"Which is why it's a good thing that you have the two of us to watch your back," Deacon retorted quickly.

"Remind me what's in this for you?" Toad said irritably.

"For me? Nothing. But you'll ruin her night if you say no," Deacon replied, hitching his thumb in Anya's direction.

Anya's mouth fell open. "What?"

"In that case… still no," Toad snapped, but Anya felt his surprised pleasure and flattery at Deacon's unfortunately accurate revelation. His green skin had taken on a slight pinkish tinge.

"Please?" she said, speaking without thinking, then wishing she could take it back. She wasn't used to putting herself in a place where she could be rejected, or asking for something she wanted if she wasn't sure of getting it.

The end result, however, was pleasing. "Fine," Toad grumbled. "But one of you is buying me a drink."

They arrived at the second club after a walk of about twenty minutes. Toad and Anya had to take Deacon's word that the club even existed, for there was no sign labeling the place, nor even the slightest indication that anything but abandoned buildings filled the rather sketchy neighborhood that they had entered. Deacon paused at one of the nondescript buildings and pulled open the door. "Ladies first," he said, motioning his two companions in ahead of him. Anya bobbed a sarcastic curtsy and walked in. Toad ducked under Deacon's arm and followed, bumping the taller psychic with his broad shoulder and trying to pretend that it was an accident.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Toad groused.

"Yes," Deacon and Anya simultaneously replied. Deacon led them through the empty building to a door, then down a set of stairs into a huge room full of black lights, dance music… and mutants. Different shades of skin, strange faces and limbs and—to Anya's mind—strange thoughts filled the room. A group of girls dancing in a circle near the door let out a collective squeal of joy when they saw Deacon and ran over to shower him with hugs and greetings. Anya stood back awkwardly, hating the feeling of being left out. Toad stood next to her, and she felt waves of discomfort from him as well, but he wasn't thinking about the little group surrounding them. He was scanning the room, in fear of finding a face that he recognized, or that would recognize him; she realized that he didn't notice being ignored because he had never grown used to being with people at all. She felt a pang of pity for this lack that he didn't even recognize in himself. Now that she was letting herself into his mind, she felt the burden of his isolation, his grudges, his loneliness, his pain, and she realized that this soul was one of the darkest that she had ever read. As he searched the club and Deacon smiled at his friends, Anya stepped back from them and tried to keep tears from flooding her eyes as she let his darkness surround her.

Her thoughts were thankfully interrupted by Deacon, who reached out and grabbed her hand to pull her into the circle, then motioned for Toad to join them. The green mutant hesitantly stepped closer to the group of girls as Deacon began rather confusing mass introductions.

"But hey, who needs to know names, we're not talking—we're dancing!" Deacon concluded, grabbing hold of the nearest girl and gyrating expertly. Anya burst out laughing at this sudden transition, but the other girls just resumed their partying. Toad's lips were quirked in amusement, but Anya could tell that he was about as likely to blow up the club as dance… more likely, as a matter of fact.

"C'mon, don't be shy!" the nearest Deacon fangirl admonished.

Anya began swaying to the music hesitantly, feeling like the eyes of the entire circle were on her, but

she felt only friendliness from them, and her movements loosened. Her discomfort reasserted itself when she realized that Toad was standing awkwardly behind her, scorning the whole scene, including her involvement in it.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," he yelled over the music, retreating hastily to the bar, where he glowered in a shadowy corner as usual.

After a few minutes of dancing, Deacon's teasing voice slashed across Anya's brain. _So have you noticed where our new friend's eyes have been glued? _

_Shut up_, Anya responded brusquely. As a matter of fact, she had noticed—Toad watched her. He scanned the club, looking for whatever unsavory friends he was avoiding, but time and again his gaze came back to her. She recognized this preoccupation as one of the classic symptoms of a crush, but his feelings weren't that simple—or flattering. He watched her, but at first she felt more annoyance than attraction. She was dancing with the others, becoming just like the gang of mutants who seemed as happy and pretty as any normal people, and therefore received an equal dose of Toad's resentment. Suddenly, his mind turned—to a dream.

_He dreamed of me_, she realized, surprised by the blush that flooded her cheeks and the little thrill that ran through her body at the realization. She remembered her own dreams, of his big staring eyes and quick movements under streetlights. In her dreams, she'd felt fear and curiosity, hostility and protection… a strange, heady jumble.

As though against his will, softer feelings flooded Toad's mind as images from his dreams presented themselves. In the real life street scene, Anya's mind was still hampered by that night's fear of discovery and had felt only irritation and nervousness from him. In his mind's dream version, she felt connection, responsibility, even tenderness. She saw herself in his mind, felt the ghostly touch of his fingers on her hair and his cold hand in hers. Another chill ran over her. His eyes found her again, but this time they clung to her, sliding over her body and locking onto her face as though he couldn't draw them away. She forgot to keep dancing, forgot to think about anything except for the lifeline of his eyes and his mind—his face had somehow grown familiar, and her own face was so strange through his eyes.

Then the spell was broken. He jumped, looked dazed, then glared, his feelings instantly turning to anger, embarrassment, pain. He had realized what she was doing, and his eyes were filled with the rage that leaked from his mind. He slid off the barstool and stormed out the door of the club.

Deacon's friends didn't even notice, but Deacon was by her side in a moment. "Good job," he said in a tone both sarcastic and gentle.

"I… I didn't even think," Anya stuttered. She felt scattered. All of her mind had been concentrated for once, and now its object was ripped away.

He switched to telepathy. _Psychic Rule One—You can't spend your life buried in other people. Addendum to rule one—you especially can't do that when the other person _knows_ about your powers._

Anya was speechless, but he didn't seem to mind. He continued. _I've been watching you tonight and now I know what you need. You need to get a life._

"What?" Anya bristled a little.

_The purpose of being psychic is not to walk around being self-conscious to the tenth power. You're selfish, because you manipulate people, and at the same time you have no self because you're a slave to what they think. Nothing is right—so right now is perfect._

_What do you mean? _Anya demanded, feeling something like guilt and panic rising in her.

_When you have nothing, you've got nothing to lose. If you want to, you could make a whole new life. I'll take care of you… and soon there will actually _be _a you._

_Why are you doing this?_

_Because I understand. I did all of this too. I can help. And, I was a psych major before I dropped out to DJ. _He chuckled out loud, and Anya's mind swam at the sudden paradigm shift.

"A word to the wise," Deacon said out loud. "The part of you that wants to go find Toad even though he's out there thinking only bad thoughts about you and is a classic social reject?"

"Yes?"

"Right now, that's the part that's you. Go. Do what you have to do. Make restitution."

"What, is that an order?"

"It's a friendly suggestion. I, Miss Anya, am your first _real _friend." He winked and went back to the girls, immediately cheerful and nonchalant again.

Anya stood frozen, surely looking out of place and awkward on the dance floor, but for once not caring. Deacon's speech had been off-putting, but even stranger was her reaction to it. Rather than feeling offended, she felt something like righteous anger, aimed at herself. _I am not happy, _she thought. It was time to try something new.

She found him a few blocks away, walking slowly in the luxury of a person who knows that they can defend themselves. She felt his restless discomfort from half a block away, but she pushed the impulse to dig deeper away and instead, spoke aloud.

"Toad!"

He wheeled around. "Go away!"

"Wait!" She ran to catch up with him instead. Forcing herself to be unwelcome and annoying… another new experience.

"Leave me alone, don't you know enough by now?"

"Please listen. I want to make it up to you."

"Oh, and how would that work?"

"Just listen. These… are my thoughts from tonight." She took a deep breath and prepared to tear down every defensive wall she had ever built.

He was wary and impatient, but he stopped walking and turned to look at her.

"OK, look…" she began nervously. "I thought about you. I've been thinking about you all week, and dreaming of you at night, like holding my hand and stuff. When we were at the club and I realized it was you… I got this weird chill all over, and I never get chills for myself, I just feel other people's… a few minutes ago, all I could feel was you and it was so good because I'm used to feeling everything, all the time, but I forgot everything but you and it felt so good to be alone… I mean, alone with someone."

She paused, gulped, and tried to keep from scanning Toad's reactions. "I'm sorry," she continued brokenly. "I didn't read your mind the first time we met, I promise, but I can't help feeling things or knowing them sometimes, I mean I really can't… but I shouldn't have been in your mind like I was. I won't do it anymore. Please don't go. I don't want to never see you again. Now you probably never want to see _me_ again. Don't feel like an idiot… you just thought about me a little, and I just _told_ you everything I've been trying to hide."

She felt a sudden sense of déjà vu, looking and being looked at by Toad on a dark street at night. She saw how eerie his eyes were in the darkness, how his skin glowed yellowish in the moonlight, and how he cocked his head oddly to the side as though pondering, weighing her judgment. He was so strange and foreign, and his mind was dark and alone, but somehow this matched the hidden darkness that Deacon's accusations had revealed in her. _You think I have it easy, but we're both so twisted, _she thought, not realizing that the words had been spoken into Toad's mind until his eyes narrowed skeptically. She felt frozen in time, waiting for judgment, in suspense… then he moved.

In two steps he was right in front of her, so close that he filled her eyes, and one hand tangled fiercely in her hair, grasping the golden strands until it pulled, but somehow she didn't mind. His other arm snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. His face was close to her face, and he took a deep breath, as though taking her in through every medium possible. Her whole body relaxed against him, but she didn't fall. She saw him, and herself, so close that they became one shape, and she felt more herself and at the same time more lost than she had known was possible.

Just as quickly, he let go and pushed her away, so suddenly that she stumbled and landed with her back pressed against a building. Instead of feeling cornered, she felt an irrational longing that he would come closer.

"Look, here's the deal," he said matter-of-factly, as though nothing had happened. "We're even. I'll forget everything you said and you forget everything your creepy mind recorded. I'll get over it… and sorry I pushed you against the wall. We'll be… friends, or something." His voice was gruff and his shoulder twitched uncertainly, but his gaze held no malice.

Anya knew that she couldn't forget any of this, and she doubted that he could either, but she realized that he was offering her a chance for a fresh start, and tonight was a night for that, so she nodded. "Friends. Or whatever."

"One condition—stay out of my head."

"I'll do as much as I can," she promised, then made one more concession to her new honesty policy. "One condition for you."

"Yeah?"

"Walk me home."

A/N: I hope a long chapter makes up for lack of updates! I hope it's a good chapter! Please, please review! It's about to be summertime, so I'll be more likely to update again soon. Thanks!


	9. Three Words

"So, this feels a lot like last time, huh?" Anya said a few minutes into their walk.

"Were you just reading my mind?" He glared suspiciously.

"What? No, seriously, this time I wasn't."

He grunted and walked a little faster.

"Let me guess, now you're thinking that you want to get rid of me as soon as possible?" Anya was still giddy from the rush of spilling her thoughts out to him—giddy and dizzy and a little sick, but also a little free. She was aching to reach out and listen to his thoughts, or just catch his mood, only for a moment, but she was trying to channel her burst of adrenaline into self-control.

"Wrong. Your powers must be slipping."

Anya wrinkled her nose, about to object to his insulting tone—but then she realized what he had just said. He _wasn't_ eager to get rid of her. She imagined his body pressed up against hers like it had been and sighed.

He looked back at her and frowned. "Why are you doing that stupid smile? Stop it, it's worse than your psychic face."

"I have a psychic face?"

"Yeah, it's like this." He stared into space blankly and widened his eyes (a dramatic feat, since they were already so large).

"I look like that when I'm being psychic? Gross."

His face fell, and she realized how her words sounded. "I mean, imagining me with that look seems gross. You're… not… gross." She giggled and somehow couldn't stop.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. I don't think so. You drank three beers, though."

"What are you, my mum?  
"Definitely not." Anya realized that her words had come out vaguely suggestive, although she wasn't sure what she was suggesting. Toad raised his eyebrows, and she wondered if he was intrigued.

"You're acting like a freak." Her hopes fell, and her teasing mood began to fade. Did he really feel only scorn for her? It hadn't felt like that at the club, but now his brooding, silent act was getting to her. She was so insecure without her powers.

"I wish you'd walk faster," Toad said irritably.

"Make me." The words popped out before she thought about it, an experience that had happened more in the past few weeks than in her entire life previously.

Toad stopped and turned to look at her. "Did you just say '_make me_'?"

"Um, no." An orphan giggle escaped her lips.

"Yes you did." He stepped closer to her, his broad shoulders tensing, walking with slow, purposeful steps. It was pretty threatening, truth be told.

"Stop, that's scary."

"_I'm_ scary, love. A scary freak. Remember?" He jerked his head to the side and flicked his tongue out of his mouth. She recognized that this was a familiar mode for him—defense mode. Intimidation mode. Joke to be scary, joke before other people could.

Anya felt nervous energy that could express itself in any manner of ways. When he was just a few steps away, she stuck her hands out and grabbed his arms. She had thought to hold him away from her in fear, but when her hands touched him, they didn't push him away. They just stayed, looking small and white against the dark, broad backdrop of his sweatshirt-clad arms.

"Is that the best fighting back you could do? Pathetic!" His voice was cocky, but his muscles were now tensing in an awkward way instead of a menacing one. He was holding still, trying not to move, not knowing how to move. She didn't read his mind. She just _knew_.

"I'm not fighting." She mustered her last bit of bravery and insanity and slid her hands down his arms until they rested in his big, cold, familiar hands. His fingers curled around hers like a reflex, and suddenly their pose had completely changed. Anya had the sense of watching from the outside again, watching their bodies come together so strangely.

"Why are you doing this?" he burst out, shattering her sweet mental image.

"I don't know. I don't even know what I'm doing."

"You're playing me because you know you can. You're flirting and teasing and it makes me sick."

Anya's stomach turned and shame burned in her face. She was about to pull her hands back and flee when her psychic mind, unable to shut off completely when strong feelings were present, felt what Toad really meant.

"Why does it make you sick? Why do you think I'm teasing?"

"Because I know you don't want any of this."

"Any of what?"

"You're just being stupid now. Walk yourself home." He stared to jerk his hands back, but Anya tightened her grasp and wouldn't release them.

"No!"

"I'm not your bloody bodyguard. I can leave."

"Don't, please." She threw away her dignity and kept his hands. "I have a question."

"What now?'

"What was the 'or something'?" She had found a memory that gave her hope. She _knew_ what he wanted. She was getting close to knowing what she wanted, too.

"You said we could be friends 'or something'."

"I don't know. Don't be so bloody literal."

"I want the 'or something'."

"You can't want just _something_. You're barmy, and I'm going home."

"I… I…" Anya knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't make herself.

"What?" He twitched impatiently, but didn't try to pull his hands back again.

"I want _you_." Anya yanked her hands out of his and covered her face. She had thought that telling him her feelings from the night was hard and embarrassing, but that was nothing compared to this. She was offering herself up for rejection or scorn, with no way out. Big paragraphs of description were open to interpretation or context. There was no mistaking the three words she had just said.

She peeked out between her fingers and saw him standing in front of her, stunned, his hands still out like they were expecting to be filled.

"What for?" he suddenly said.

"What?"

"What do you want me for?"

"I don't know…"

"A slave? An accountant? A cable guy?"

"What?"

"You're being rather vague."

"I don't know what I…" She covered her face again. "Damn."

He laughed. "You're weirder than I thought." He paused. "I thought you wanted me to take you home."

"I do." She cautiously let her hands fall.

"Let's go." She walked behind him, feeling like a puppy trailing after its master and considering banging her head against something so that the temptation to find out what he was thinking about her would be gone.


	10. Missed Chance

The street they had been on was empty, but as they walked on, more people appeared, as usual in New York. Anya watched Toad look down, hunch his shoulders, and draw into himself, looking somehow more surly and more afraid at the same time. She wanted to comfort him somehow, but figured she had already done about enough for the day.

They walked most of the remaining way to the dorm in silence, Toad a few paces ahead, occasionally looking back impatiently, as though to hurry her and make sure she didn't get lost on the somewhat crowded streets. Anya gingerly brushed the surface of his mind and felt relieved when she sensed that he wasn't as annoyed as he was trying to appear.

When they reached the dorm, they paused awkwardly in front of the steps.

"So," Toad said.

"So," Anya echoed. "Um, thanks for walking me home."

"No problem. Well, actually, kind of a problem, but I can recover."

"Heh. Great." Anya's courage had fled, leaving her usual anxious self to clean up the mess.

"See you around, yeah?"

"Um, yeah." Toad turned and started walking away. Anya's heart ached with the anticlimactic feeling of it all. _See you around?_ she thought. Who knew when she would see him next? He knew where she lived, but that wasn't exactly a promise of return, or even a half-hearted "I'll call you."

Then he turned around.

"Why are you still standing there?"

"I don't know."

He took a step closer to her. "Sad to see me go?" he teased. She realized that he was hiding a wish behind the joke.

"You could stay a little."

"Out here? It's freezing. And there's a load of college kids. I hate college kids."

Anya rolled her eyes. "You could come in."

He looked at her skeptically.

"My roommate's at a party. She wouldn't be back yet." Anya only meant to reassure Toad that he wouldn't have to hang out with strangers, but she belatedly realized that her comment might have sounded like a different kind of request. Anya was beginning to feel like she was unwillingly becoming a desperate woman.

"I guess that would be OK. It's a long way to walk to just drop _you_ off." He smiled a half-smile, and Anya's heart lifted.

"Gee, thanks," she replied sarcastically, unable to hide a slight smile in return.

Even though he had verbally agreed to come in, he didn't move closer to the door, so Anya didn't either. After a moment of just standing around, she decided that it would look more casual to lean against the railing next to them. However, she slightly overestimated the height of the railing and almost fell over it instead.

"Whoa!" she cried as she felt herself tipping backwards, her head falling in the direction of the concrete stairs. Before she hit it, Toad had grabbed her, one hand cradling her head and the other supporting her almost upside-down body.

"So, you really do need me to watch out for you, huh? You just almost killed yourself on a bloody stairwell." He chuckled rudely and teasingly held her in the awkward position for a minute before pulling her back toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as she could reach it, shaken from her near-mishap, not to mention extreme embarrassment.

She was even more embarrassed when she realized that he was now basically holding her in his arms, bride-across-the-threshold style. Fortunately, he set her down quickly. She let go of him, but then felt dizzy and almost tripped again. He grabbed her waist, and she set her hands on his shoulders. She was one step above him, so her face was slightly higher than his.

"You OK?" he asked quietly. She could feel his breath on her neck when he spoke.

"Yeah, I think so." Her voice came out almost a whisper.

"Can I let go of you?"

"If you want to." A dare.

A moment passed.

And another.

"So," Toad said, his arms still in place.

"So," Anya echoed. She held her breath as he leaned infinitesimally closer. She felt his face barely touch her throat, and his eyelashes brushed her cheek. Both of their thoughts were hazy and dreamy, with no real intent, but they were somehow getting closer to each other every moment. His lips brushed her throat, and she let out a sigh, a sound of happiness almost like relief, when a shout broke the standoff.

"Anya!"

She and Toad jumped apart and turned to see Allyson climbing up the steps.

"What's up?" Allyson asked, her words innocent, but her eyes narrowing critically as she appraised the situation.

"Um, not much. I thought you were going to that party," Anya replied, automatically slipping into the correct "casual" tone of conversation.

"Yeah, I did, but the cops came. I was kind of tired anyway."

"Oh, yeah, OK." Toad was practically squirming, looking around to figure out an escape route, but Allyson's curiosity was too quick.

"So who's your friend?"

"Ah, this is…" Anya tried to think of a way to stall, but before she had to, Toad jumped in.

"Bob."

"Yeah, Bob," Anya echoed, feeling the urge to laugh at this pseudonym, but resisting.

"Hey, Bob, I'm Ally. Nice to meet you," Allyson said, her tone hesitant as she tried to catch a better look at Toad's face under the hood. She stuck her hand out to shake, but Toad fidgeted away instead.

"Yeah, you too, but I really gotta go. See you later, Anya." He was talking in a "casual" tone of his own, apparently trying to seem like an innocent college guy instead of an itinerant mutant. He bounded down the stairs, casting just one look over his shoulder as he walked off hastily.

"Is the light weird out here, or was that guy green?" Allyson burst out as soon as he was far away.

Anya winced. She had hoped that it was too dark for Allyson to tell, but apparently her roommate had sharp eyes. "What? No, I don't think so." She played innocent.

Ally saw through it. "Anya, come on."

Anya realized that Allyson was now thinking that she was a faker as well as a mutant-lover, so she shrugged and made a sort of noncommittal sound. "Eh."

"So, he's like, a mutant?"

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Isn't that kind of… weird?"

"Pretty much, yeah, but I just ran into him at the club and we were hanging out and stuff. He was pretty weird, but I didn't know how to get rid of him. And he walked me home so I wouldn't, like, get mugged or anything." Anya was amazed at how social damage control was her second nature.

"Uh, well, OK." Allyson looked thoughtful for a moment, then suddenly said, "You should have come to the party with me! It was so fun before it got busted!"

"Oh, yeah? Who all was there?" Anya hoped that if she could get Allyson babbling about the night, she would forget about the strange Toad occurrence.

"Well, I saw that guy from history, and his girlfriend, you know the really short one? And Todd, and…" Allyson began a soliloquy of the night's social interactions, and Anya relaxed. She had thought that someone knowing that she was a mutant would change everything, but apparently, it was all too easy to slip back into her pose, and back into hiding again.

Toad rolled over on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He was trying to sleep, despite the fact that it was still early evening. He had nothing better to do.

Nothing better except, apparently, think about Anya. Nearly a week had passed since he saw her (saw her, talked to her, touched her…), but he still thought about her several times a day, details of her popping into his mind at the slightest provocation. He had so many more details to draw upon after their latest encounter—how she felt in his arms, how she hid her face when she was embarrassed, how she laughed.

The detail that came up the most, however, was not even a real detail. It was just a sentence, spoken in her voice—"I want you."

It reminded him of those annoying cell phone ringtones that always played at awkward times. At any moment during the day, his mind would replay Anya's voice saying those words, and he would get an overwhelming flurry of feelings—happiness, worry, confusion, and most of all, regret.

Who was he kidding? He hadn't been voluntarily touched by another human being for years, unless you count getting punched, which he didn't. And here he had met this girl who was cute and sweet (and OK, basically a traitor to mutant-kind and a nervous wreck from hiding her identity), and she had held his hand and let him put his arms around her and flat-out said "I WANT YOU" and asked him up to her room… and he had frozen up, then run away. He did have a reason for running, since that friend of hers seemed way too curious, but he could have done something. He could have gotten her number. He could have gone back and scouted around until he saw her again. Technically, he could have taken her invitation and gone upstairs with her, or, even better, he could have just grabbed her and kissed her. (But surely, even if she supposedly wanted him, she wouldn't want to touch his _tongue_?)

These possibilities and mistakes spun around in his head, and Toad spun around on the bed, changing positions to try to find one that would allow him to think of something else. But really, he knew he didn't want to think about anything else. Pathetic as his life was, this was the best part of it. That tiny bit of chance, this piece of hope.

After a few more minutes of tossing, turning, and angsting, a loud knock came at his front door. He jumped, immediately in fight position. Who would come to his apartment? He didn't have friends. He hoped he didn't have enemies anymore. What if it was Mystique, trying to get him back into the Brotherhood? What if it was the police, arresting him for the whole Liberty Island thing?

He slunk over to the door and put his eye to the peephole. What he saw was even more surprising than what he had feared—Deacon, the DJ.

"Hey, man! Wassup?" Deacon said happily, waving, his face distorted through the tiny viewer.

Toad sighed and pulled the door open. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," Deacon said in a voice of cheerful sarcasm, inviting himself into the tiny living room immediately. "I have three things to tell you about."

"How did you find me?" Toad asked, then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

"OK, first thing—a job."

"A job?"

"For you. A good job."

Toad envisioned himself kidnapping or assassinating someone and mentally shuddered. "Go on," he said cautiously.

"Remember the mutant club?"

"Well, yeah."

"They need a new bouncer. Well, bouncer, furniture mover, maybe occasional bartender, or floor sweeper, or troubleshooter… a jack of all trades. The pay's not much, but more than you're getting now for laying around your apartment."

"You think I look like a bouncer?" Toad was flattered. People often saw his shortness and hunched posture and ignored his broad shoulders and quick moves.

"No, but I think you can handle yourself and you know how to fight."

"Damn straight," Toad said toughly.

Deacon chuckled, undaunted. "So you're interested?"

Toad hesitated. "Maybe. What are the other two things?"

"The second thing is a bit more tricky."

Toad rolled his eyes. "Great."

"My roommate is moving to San Francisco." Deacon stopped.

"And?" Toad asked rudely.

"And I need a new roommate. The rent's too much without it, but I don't want to move. It's seriously a _sweet_ setup."

Toad gaped. "You want to live with me?"

"Well, more like I want _you_ to move in with _me_, but yeah. I need a roommate. You need somewhere to live that doesn't suck. It would be the same rent, maybe even less, since we'd be splitting it. I'm not trying to be your best pal or anything, but I think it might be a decent arrangement."

"Humph," Toad said. The idea of living with Deacon was kind of annoying, but his apartment _was _pretty disgusting. And though he'd never admit it, he was tired of living alone. He felt like his world was shrinking around him, slowly becoming nothing but his own thoughts and fears.

"Just think about it. I could have been more tactful and tricky about all this, but I can tell that you're the kind of guy who likes to hear the straight deal. Plus, I need to know by the end of this week."

"Yeah, well," Toad grumbled, still thinking it over. "What's the last thing?"

"The last thing isn't a big deal. I just wanted to know if you wanted to come over and check out the place before you decide anything. You could come tomorrow night after six. I get off my day job then, and I'm not working nights until Friday."

"Uh, I guess that would be OK." What was with this guy? Was there any possibility that he was gay and trying to make Toad his life partner?

"Great. Here's directions." Deacon yanked a printed page from Google Maps out of the roomy pockets of his baggy pants and shoved it toward Toad.

"OK. Six?"

"Yeah. I'll see you then, man. Peace!" Deacon left as quickly as he had come and Toad was left alone in his bubble of silence again.

A/N: Will Toad and Anya ever meet again? Will Toad and Deacon become roomies? Keep reading to find out—and… REVIEW!


	11. Needs

When Toad reached Deacon's apartment building the next day, he had to admit to himself that it was nice. Not fancy or anything, but not skeezy either. Just plain apartments with nice little balconies. Parking spaces for each resident. No bums hanging around.

He found the apartment number that was written in the corner of the directions page and hesitantly rang the bell. Just before the door swung open, he felt panicked and wished that he hadn't come. He imagined himself making up an excuse to leave—pretending to be a pizza delivery man or Toad's evil doppelganger—and chuckled grimly to himself.

The door swung open to reveal Deacon, cheery and gaudy as always. "Hey, man! Glad you came. Come check the place out." He waved Toad through the door like a collie herding a sheep.

Toad looked at the small, but functional living room, dining room, and kitchen. He winced at the reggae posters and bright color schemes Deacon had chosen, but it wasn't too bad.

"So where're the bedrooms?" Toad mumbled, trying not to sound like he was sold on this idea yet.

"Up the stairs." Deacon led him up a set of steps to a tiny hallway with a door on either side. "This is my roommate's old room." He swung a door open to reveal an empty bedroom. "There's a bathroom attached and two closets."

"Yeah, because I need room for my extensive wardrobe," Toad snorted, and Deacon laughed.

"Want to see my room?" Deacon asked, mischief in his voice.

_Oh, no! He really is hitting on me! _Toad coughed to cover up his anxiety. "No, no, that's OK."

Deacon grinned evilly. "Oh man, I think you do."

Toad stopped trying to be subtle. "No, I really bloody don't!"

"Just look." Deacon stepped over to the door opposite and flung it open. Toad looked in cautiously, expecting to see a scary chamber of love or something. What he saw instead was a rather gaudy, but unremarkable room. There were only two remarkable things in it—Allyson and Anya, sitting on the bed.

"Huh? You? What?" Toad babbled like an idiot.

"Oh, hey," Allyson said unenthusiastically.

Anya was making an awkward, clenched-teeth look, and she silently waved. Toad wondered what to make out of this. Then he got distracted by how cute Anya looked. She was wearing a shirt with a hooded jacket (a look he often favored himself), along with a short skirt that drew his eyes immediately to her legs, which seemed to him all creamy skin and soft curves, just a little chubby and altogether the kind of thing he wouldn't mind looking at for a while. His eyes moved up to her face, which still looked nervous, and he smiled when he saw her pretty, flighty hair, which was twisted into two little pigtails.

"Hey, Allyson, why don't you come out and help me get snacks?" Deacon said, peeking in over Toad's shoulder.

"OK!" Allyson jumped up, immediately all enthusiasm. She preened as soon as Deacon spoke, and even Toad, social pariah that he was, could tell that she was smitten with the insouciant DJ.

In a moment, Toad was alone in the bedroom with Anya, who still hadn't moved or spoken. "How's it going?" he said, then immediately felt like slapping himself. Some original opening line.

"I'm going to kill Deacon!" Anya burst out with surprising vigor.

Toad shrank back a little. Was she unhappy to see him?

Anya jumped up off the bed. "I mean, he came to the dorm and invited us over and made it sound like he just wanted to hang out, and Allyson saw him and thought he was hot so we came over but then the doorbell rang and he went to get it and it was you."

_Oh, great_, Toad thought unhappily.

"Oh, no, no, I mean, I'm glad. I'm just mad that he didn't warn me. I'm going to make him teach me how to trick other psychics, because I really don't get it yet." She smiled shyly as she finished her rant.

"Yeah," Toad said, his heart lightening. He had probably smiled more in the past five minutes than he had in the previous five years.

"So what do you want to do?" Anya said, then blushed. "I mean, like, watch a movie or something? I have this feeling that Deacon and Ally aren't coming back for a while…_oh my gosh_!"

Toad jumped. His mutant senses making him a bit easily startled. "What? What?"

Anya clapped her hand to her forehead. "I can't believe it." Then she started laughing.

"What is it?" Toad asked impatiently.

"Deacon and Allyson are down there totally making out!" She laughed again. "They've known each other for, like, ten minutes!" She paused, then glared. "Ugh. Deacon is stopping me from spying on them. I guess I don't want to know too much detail."

"Wow, that guy works fast, huh?" Toad felt briefly jealous.

"Yeah, I guess so." Anya giggled. "If only I could use my psychic skills so well."

Toad's jealousy had changed to energy. He felt like springing across the room and pulling Anya close to him and… well, he wasn't sure what then. He had many ideas, but pretty much no experience. Images filled his mind. He wrung his hands, then stuffed them in his pockets. He stood on his left foot, then his right. He avoided Anya's eyes.

When he finally looked at her, he saw her smiling mysteriously. Kind of like the Mona Lisa. Except without a veil.

"Were you… just…" He didn't even have to finish his sentence. Of course she had picked up on his thoughts.

"Yeah. I'm sorry!" She didn't look sorry. She looked smug.

Toad's attraction immediately cooled to embarrassment and annoyance. "I told you to knock that off."

"I'm sorry," she said again, no longer smiling, but still looking sneaky.

"Stop making that face! Don't… flatter yourself." There wasn't really a way to deny his own thoughts, was there? He was stuck.

Suddenly, Anya's eyebrow quirked. "Make me."

Toad gawked. "Huh?"

"Make me stop." She grinned. "I dare you. Make me stop smiling."

Toad was confused. He was partly mad at her, partly embarrassed, partly still full of stupid and sappy longing, and partly turned on by her devious look. She was kind of hot when she was being a jerk.

He decided to fight fire with fire. He began thinking mean things about her—most of them lies. _You're a bad mutant. And your hair is too frizzy. And you look fat in that skirt. _That would teach her to read his mind!

Anya's smile fell, then disappeared as a sad, scrunched look spread across her face. His plan had worked a little too well. She looked miserable, and he felt unwillingly guilty.

He had a sudden impulse, and for once, he followed it. "Look," he said, surprising himself as much as her. He pulled his sweatshirt off, leaving him in just a worn white T-shirt that showed his arms and let the green tint of his skin shine through. "I'm a freak. You shouldn't care what I think. You shouldn't care."

Anya's face was disarmingly expressionless. She studied him closely, then shook her head. "You can't scare me off. Quit trying."

"Can't? Oh, yeah?" Now it was a challenge. "Look here." He let his tongue hang a few feet out of his mouth.

A corner of Anya's mouth tilted up. "That's weird. But I've seen it before."

"OK, how's this for scary?" Words flowed out of his mouth unbidden, unwanted. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her as he spoke. "I'm a criminal. I kidnap people. I beat people up. I'm a thug. I killed a guy once in a barfight. I didn't mean to, but I… just did. I used to pick pockets. I used to be Magneto's lackey. I hate… well, everyone. And they hate me. I'm not _good_, OK?" He felt humiliated and empty as soon as the words were spoken. He pushed Anya away.

When he had joined the Brotherhood, he had decided to leave his weakness behind—his years of loneliness and being beaten and learning to fight back. He had learned to pose and strut and fight. He thought he had forgotten how to show his weakness. He knew he had never learned to stop feeling it. He couldn't believe he had finally let it be seen.

Anya was silent for so long that he looked up to see if she was still there. She was. She didn't look disgusted, or afraid. She just looked sad. Maybe even broken-hearted.

"Aren't you going to say something? You know, something like 'Get the hell out of here' or 'Gross'? I've heard it all before." Toad tried to take up his bravado again, but it was too late.

Anya walked slowly toward him and didn't stop until her face was inches from his. She didn't touch him. She just stayed there, then slowly clasped her hands over her heart. She finally spoke.

"I'm so sorry."

"For what?" He forced himself to stand his ground and not back away.

"For you."

He was suddenly furious. She was going to stand there and pity him? He was about to turn and rush out, but her next words stopped him.

"I'm sorry for hiding. Now I understand why you should hate me. I'm a coward. I've hidden for so long. I don't know what to do when I'm not lying." Tears leaked out of her eyes. "I don't know how I thought you could like me. I mean, you didn't deserve any of that. But you got it all, and I got to have powers for free. It's so unfair. I'm so sorry." She was the one who turned to leave.

He grabbed her hand. "Stop."

She shook her head and tried to pull away, but he didn't let go.

"It's not your fault. You _are_ a coward, but you're not the one who hurt me. And I didn't have to do the things I did. Stop beating yourself up. It sucks. I should know."

Anya looked up at him, slow and shy like she expected him to slap her. Instead, he put his hand to her soft, round cheek, still a little damp from tears. Touching her felt nice. He could get used to this.

"Please get used to it," she whispered, a hint of the smile coming back.

Toad was about to yell at her to stop the psychic act, but instead he moved his hand to cover her mouth. She raised her eyebrows, confused.

"No talking. Too much talking today. C'mere." He pulled her against him, hugging her tight, so he could smell her nice girl smell and feel her warm skin through the layers of their clothes. She laid her head on his shoulder and he boldly…stroked her hair. (Well, he had to start somewhere, didn't he?)

Then, proving themselves the most inconvenient couple ever, Deacon and Allyson walked in, finally, looking rather disheveled and carrying snacks. "Hey guys!" Deacon said happily.

Toad expected Anya to leap away from him, but she didn't. Instead she just looked over his shoulder at the pair and glared. Deacon glared back, and Toad was pretty sure that some psychic arguing was occurring.

"What movie do you guys want to watch?" Allyson said, staring at Toad and Anya's embrace, but apparently not too bothered.

"I'm going to sit on the bed," Anya said suddenly, plopping down and staring competitively at Deacon.

"Well, fine, because I like the floor better anyway," Deacon retorted, a hint of annoyance tingeing his usual cheer

"Me, too," Allyson said in a tone of zombie-like approval.

Toad sat down next to Anya, then yelped. "What's with this bed?"

Anya laughed. "It's a waterbed."

"Oh." Toad bounced around a little, making the bed shift around wildly. He flopped onto his back, making bigger waves, and laughed when his motions made Anya bounce.

"I'm glad the bed is so amusing," Anya said, a little sarcastically. Toad wondered why she was making fun of him, then realized that it was because he was paying more attention to the bed than her. But what was he supposed to do with her? He was suddenly nervous all over again.

"C'mere," Anya whispered, mimicking his earlier words. He looked nervously at Deacon and Allyson, but they were distracted, looking through Deacon's DVD cabinet to pick a movie. Toad scooted nervously closer to Anya, wishing that he could suddenly switch brains with Deacon or some other suave guy. Brains, or at least skills.

"Relax. You're making the bed shake," Anya joked. "Oh wait… I mean… that sounded weird."

Toad laughed. "I make the bed shake, huh?" He reached over and poked Anya's ribs, causing her to yelp and jump. "Quit that, you'll make the bed shake!" He stuck his hand out for another attack, but Anya reached over and grabbed it as though to push it away.

"Hey guys, would you rather see _Fast Times at Ridgemont High_ or _Romeo and Juliet_?" Deacon asked. Anya let go of Toad's hand. He felt annoyed at Deacon for breaking up the game.

"_Fast Times_," Toad replied grouchily, surprised when Anya said the same words at the same moment.

"You guys! I want to see _Romeo and Juliet_!" Allyson protested. "Anya, you're a traitor to girlkind!"

"Fine, fine. _Romeo and Juliet_," Anya acquiesced.

"OK, fine," Deacon grumbled, putting the DVD in.

It soon became apparent that Deacon and Allyson didn't really care about the movie, since they spent half the time whispering and kissing anyway. Anya arranged some of Deacon's pillows into a comfortable pile behind her head and nestled down into the water mattress, her face pointing toward the TV, but her eyes straying toward Toad every few seconds.

Toad shifted around, trying to get comfortable on the waterbed. Did Anya really want to just watch the movie?

He looked over at her and caught her staring at him. "What?"  
"Nothing."

"You're looking at me."

"Isn't that allowed?"

Toad relaxed a little, leaning back on his own pile of pillows. "Yeah, but most people would pay for the privilege of _not _looking at me," he joked.

Anya giggled and looked back at the TV. Toad did the same.

A few minutes passed.

"Hey, Toad?" she whispered.

"Yeah?" He turned his head lazily.

"Are you really that interested in this movie?"

"Eh… not so much."

"Me neither. I don't like movies that much. I mean, it's pretty and stuff, but I have a hard time caring about anyone in them. It's so weird to see people and not feel them." She paused, then looked over at him earnestly. "You know what I mean?"

"No. You're a freak," he deadpanned. She slapped his arm, but before she could take her hand back, he grabbed it, using her own trick against her. "Sorry, you can't have this back." He tucked the hand into his own.

"I can't? Isn't there _anything_ I can do?" Her voice was suddenly breathy and a little seductive, and Toad's breath caught in his throat.

"You can try." He wanted to put the ball in her court.

It worked. She slid across the mattress and lay right next to him, her free arm thrown across him. She tucked her face into his neck.

"It'll take more than that to make me give your hand back," Toad said, his voice coming out annoyingly husky instead of smooth.

"I don't want it back."

"You might need it someday."

"I don't care." Then her voice whispered into his mind—_I need this more._

A/N: Muy romantica¿si? Don't worry—there will be complications, excitement, and more plot in the next chapter!


End file.
